When Michael Jackson bought his ranch in rural central California, he picked a name for it that suggested eternal youth and escape from reality.

When the singer cut a deal with Colony Capital last year to fend off foreclosure, the private real estate investment firm reverted to what the home's previous owner had called it, Sycamore Valley Ranch.

But residents of Santa Ynez Valley have another name for the 2,676-acre spread: They call it NEVER!-land.

As in NEVER going to turn Jackson's famous home into a tourist attraction, a la Elvis Presley's Graceland. As in NEVER going to bury him there. As in it's NEVER going to happen.

The pop star lived happily at Neverland for almost two decades, bringing in school groups and Scout troops to play in his amusement park, see his zoo animals, watch movies in his private theater. Jackson vowed he'd never return after police swarmed the Tudor-style mansion in November 2003, seeking evidence to support child-molestation charges against him — but that didn't keep fans from congregating at the gates after his death last month.

Like Graceland and Elvis, Neverland is the physical site most associated with Jackson, a natural place for the curious and the devoted to pay their respects. But transforming the ranch into a public memorial to his life and legacy wouldn't be easy for Colony Capital or anyone else who might decide to take that route.

For one thing, Neverland looks very different than it did during its heyday. The giraffe pen and snake barn are empty. His art collection and furnishings are in storage. The rides have been scattered across the USA.

And even though Jackson was acquitted, Neverland is so tainted by its association with the trial that "really dedicated fans are a little torn by the notion" of opening it to visitors, says Jackson biographer J. Randy Taraborrelli (Michael Jackson: The Magic, the Madness, the Whole Story).

Fans are divided

Renee Perkins of Washington, D.C., feels those qualms, though she'd probably make the pilgrimage given the chance. "I never got to complete my dream of seeing him in person, and that would be the next best thing," says Perkins, 24. "But I still think it might be intruding on his privacy."

Frank Fitzpatrick isn't torn at all. "Let his legacy live through his music, not through a piece of property," says the 37-year-old fan from Knoxville, Tenn.

But most of the tourists who would line up for such an attraction "don't have the knowledge that the devoted fan does," Taraborrelli says. "All they know is that Michael Jackson is Neverland and Neverland is Michael Jackson, so let's go."

The Jackson family and Neverland's owners would face large, perhaps insurmountable, obstacles to opening it as a shrine, including a burial controversy, legal wrangling over the estate and a community generally opposed to commercial development.

While the area of Memphis around Graceland already was zoned for commercial use, Neverland, near Los Olivos, is in agricultural country. It sits off a two-lane road with dirt shoulders. There's not a sewer system nearby, much less a hotel.

"This community has proven over and over again that they're equal-opportunity developer bashers," says William Etling, a real-estate agent in Santa Barbara County who also has written a book called Sideways in Neverland: Life in the Santa Ynez Valley.

"People live here for the peace and quiet, and they don't want the city following them," says Etling, pointing to well-known residents such as David Crosby, Bo Derek and John Forsythe.

The development debate

For the past decade, valley residents have haggled over a proposed community plan for land use and development that's expected to be approved this year.

"There is nothing like (a Neverland attraction) in that plan," says former Valley Planning Advisory Committee chairman Bob Field. "In fact, there are prohibitions sprinkled all through it."

According the Santa Barbara County Land Use & Development Code, any proposed project must "be compatible with the surrounding area" and its "rural and scenic character."

Interring Jackson on the grounds would require consent from state and county governments. Colony Capital investigated the possibility at the Jackson family's request but determined it would involve a complex approval process, says a source familiar with plans for the ranch who wasn't authorized to discuss them. The singer's final burial place hasn't been announced.

Presley initially was interred at Memphis' Forest Hills Cemetery, but his body was relocated to Graceland two months later after a graverobbing attempt. Graceland opened in 1982 and now draws 600,000 visitors a year.

Field suspects a public Neverland would attract even more. "It's two hours away from L.A.," he says. "The weather's great year-round. I think you're looking at a million or two."

The influx would tax the infrastructure of the valley, which has a population of about 20,000. It would require changes not only to the road and sewer systems but probably police, fire and medical services. "It will trigger every possible impact in an environmental impact report," Field says.

The site's remote location might keep some fans away. "I hear it's hard to get there," says Dawn Sutton, 33, of Chicago. Sutton says she'd prefer a more accessible memorial. "They're trying to do something in his hometown (of Gary, Ind.)," she says. "It would be nice if they could get something there."

Few land-purchase options

Elvis Presley Enterprises avoided some resistance by buying bordering land over a 20-year period, increasing the property from 14 acres to about 100.

Neverland doesn't have many options; it's bordered on two sides by Midland, a college-preparatory boarding school, and the Los Padres National Forest. Two other ranches, one in the same family for generations, border it to the west and the north.

Much work would also need to be done behind the scenes, says a former chief marketing officer at EPE. "One of the first things they have to do is understand what assets they control — like name, image, likeness, music," says Paul Jankowski, who's now chief strategist for Access Brand Strategies in Nashville. RCA Records, not Presley, owned his master recordings, much as Motown and Sony own the rights to most of Jackson's. "There was a big division between Elvis' music and his likeness," Jankowski says. "That was a challenge."

Then there's the question of "how much of Michael's estate do you bring out initially?" he says. "It would be taking inventory of what they have, then determining what the core attraction's going to be and how you move people around that."

Jackson's amusement park, which once contained more than a dozen rides, would seem logical to include. But like the zoo animals, the rides are gone — sold off last fall.

Butler Amusements in Fairfield, Calif., bought five and has the Balloon Samba and the Lolli Swing among its traveling inventory. Owner Earl Butler listed a custom bumper-car ride on eBay a few days after Jackson's death, but the high bid of $46,100 failed to meet his reserve.

"This needs to be a permanent park," Butler says. "People would love to come here and ride these." He says he has received a call inquiring about buying the rides back should Neverland be turned into an attraction.

Jankowski doesn't consider the rides essential. "I don't think it has to be Six Flags," he says. "If they have the ability to get a little peek behind the curtain of what his life was, that's what's going to draw the core fan."

Graceland opened nearly five years after Presley's death, when upkeep and taxes threatened to bankrupt the estate. A political battle over zoning and infrastructure in Santa Barbara County could take even longer.

"It would take five or 10 years," Field says. "And I wouldn't bet that it would get approved."

Taxes could be a killer

So if Neverland's owners can't turn it into a tourist destination, what options do they have? If they just sit on it, they pay annual property taxes of slightly more than $200,000. If they want to sell it, they might look to the nearby 3,250-acre Bar Go Ranch for comparison. The Bar Go is on the market for $33 million. But selling Neverland for residential use brings its own challenges; any new owner would have to contend with gawkers at the gates.

Etling suggests planting a vineyard and trying to get approval for a winery.

"Call it Michael Jackson Winery, plant some grapes, get a winery permit, have some exhibits," Etling says. "They could probably make that happen."

Field has a more ambitious recommendation: Dismantle Neverland — the house, the remaining rides and Jackson's possessions — and move the whole thing to Las Vegas.

"The infrastructure's there," he says, noting that the city's airport handles 44 million passengers a year and that visitors generate more than $40 billion in annual tourism revenue for the city. "Picture what they've built on The Strip. This is easy."

Field's plan also could have ancillary benefits for Colony Capital, which has large stakes in the Las Vegas Hilton and Station Casinos.

"It could be done in a year instead of 10, maybe never. It'll be done for tens of millions of dollars less, and it'll throw off five or 10 times as much money. I don't know why they're even thinking about doing that here."

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